Glorified
by Kamikaze Butterfly
Summary: The savior of Sleepy Hollow didn't seem like much, but that's exactly the way she likes them. IchabodxOC, some IchabodxKatrina. A five-part series. For Lucia, with companionate love.
1. Bird Watching

I sucked in my breath and held it deep within me as the royal-blue swallow alighted on a nearby branch. Its head darted about to and fro before it relaxed and found comfort on its new perch. Smiling widely, I could only whisper the bird's name: "Purple Martin."

When its eyes suddenly met mine, I froze and tried desperately to gulp back my words, but before I could, it flew off into the distance.

I was about to curse myself for being so foolish when I heard the reason why it had taken wing. The beating of hooves against the forest floor echoed around me, and the sharpest of fears pierced my core. I could barely breathe, my throat constricted by my terror, as I gathered my petticoats and began to shuffle in the direction of Sleepy Hollow, the only home I had ever known and, with the grace of God, would continue to know. The thumping turned to pounding; it was either the horse's gait or my heart throbbing in my head. Nonetheless, I continued to run as fast as my legs could carry me.

Unfortunately, I was no match for the animal's stride. I thanked God, however, when I saw the headed figure of the man who had come to save us atop the creature. I was able to breathe again, though rapidly, as warmth rushed to my cheeks. I brushed imaginary dirt off my petticoat and smiled when he halted Gunpowder and dismounted him.

"Good afternoon, Constable Crane," I purred. "I am so glad to see that it is only you and your horse that have found your way here."

His soft expression turned to a muddle of nervousness and irritation. "I must admit, it is wonderful to see you as well, Miss Van Buren, but I regret to inform you that there is no Horseman."

The corners of my lips curled downward. How could a man so handsome be so occupied with his business? When I noticed his body stiffen and his cheeks brighten, however, the smile returned to my face, especially when he spoke again.

"B-but, yes. If I may be so bold to ask, what is your reason for being here?"

Despite his soft stutter, which I found simply irresistible, I suddenly felt coy. Bird watching, after all, was not exactly a womanly activity to practice. Even so, I responded with the truth.

"I was merely observing the birds."

When he smiled broadly, I had to stifle my sigh of relief. "Bird watching?" His voice rang with newfound confidence. "Now that is something I thoroughly enjoy."

"Do you, Constable?" I took a step toward him, subtracting the distance between us ever so slightly. Being only one small stride closer to him still made my heart pitter-patter rapidly. "Would you like to bird watch with me?"

He suddenly took an interest in his shoes, as his eyes immediately darted toward them. I frowned again, but only for a moment, because when he looked back up, his expression was that of a rather nervous gentleman. "Y-you don't mind?"

"Absolutely not, Constable," was my lighthearted response. "Gunpowder may join us as well."

"A-alright then. T-thank you, Miss Van Buren." I could tell he was containing himself, which only made me smile even wider.

"Please, follow me. I know a perfect place to watch the birds."

I walked along his left side as he led the horse on his right. As we ventured toward the sight, we spoke of petty affairs that only attracted me to him even more. He was such a good-looking man with his dark eyes, inky-black hair, and sweet smile. He was kind and tender, like a gentleman should have been, and his customary apprehension made him all the more enticing. If I had ever needed anything in my life, it was Constable Ichabod Crane.

As we approached the area, I glanced toward him and tittered at his wide, almost childish grin. It was a small clearing with a flat rock in its center, one wide enough for two to sit together intimately. The tree branches reached especially high for the sky, and they intertwined with one another lovingly, as I wished to lace my fingers with his.

He turned to me and was about to speak when he must have realized the attractively foolish look on his face, and, to my dismay, it faded.

"I-it is rather lovely here," he said softly. "I-it most certainly is the perfect place for bird watching."

"Did you not believe me?" I jested, to which he flinched.

"I-I would never doubt your word, M-Miss Van Buren!" he squeaked, and I laughed brightly.

"As I would never say such a thing to you and mean it?" I asked as I stepped closer to him. "You really should loosen up, Constable."

For a moment, he looked astonished, but his face soon relaxed, and his lips curled into a sheepish smile. "I-I wish it was as s-simple as stating so. I-I try and try, b-but no matter what I do, I-I can never keep collected a-around women, e-especially one such as," he turned his head to the slab of stone then, "yourself."

My mouth hung in the air for a moment before I realized it was doing so and snapped it shut. Heat rushed to my cheeks. His words were so sweet, so divine, as if they were murmured into my ear by God Himself. "D-do you think it is easy for me to be in the presence of such a g-gentleman?" I asked him sincerely as I clutched my petticoat in an attempt to still my quivering hands.

His head whipped back toward me, and his sucked in his breath, about to respond, when Gunpowder released a mighty snort from his nostrils. We both jumped before laughing heartily at our thoughtlessness.

"E-excuse me," he said, and I nodded before he left to tie the horse's reigns to a thick branch. I watched and sighed as his skilled fingers worked the leather into a tight knot, and when he returned to my side, he nodded toward the rock.

"S-shall we?" he inquired shyly.

"O-of course," I responded, voice weak from exhilaration.

We sat on the slab and let our eyes flicker from tree branch to tree branch in search of a bird. Occasionally, I would steal a glance in his direction, and I would entangle my fingers in the fabric near my bosom. When his head was about to turn toward me, my eyes darted back to our pursuit almost expertly.

Once, however, I was not quick enough, and our eyes locked. I froze as my heart threatened to leap from my chest. His Adam's apple shifted as he swallowed, and before I could comprehend what was happening, the distance between us was vanishing, slowly but surely disappearing. My lips quivered with anticipation; his did as well.

Before long, we were only mere millimeters apart from each other. His hot breath tasted so sweet on my lips. Bit by bit, his arms wrapped around me, and I returned his embrace, clinging to him as if he were about to evaporate into nothing. My heart was beating frantically and threatened to leap from my breast at any moment.

"Constable–"

"P-please, call me I-Ichabod." His voice was quiet, shaky yet sincere.

A soft purr escaped from my throat. "O-only if you refer to me as Elizabeth," was my hushed reply. Bit by bit, my hand slid up his back and his shoulder, making to caress his hot cheek.

"E-Elizabeth," he repeated, his head tilting into my touch. I gasped lightly when his palm glided across my arm.

Finally, in a gentle, lengthy dance, our lips met. Somehow, though I had never kissed a man before, the skill came naturally to me. A low sound echoed from my throat as my arms found their way around his neck, and I melted into him when he returned it.

Somehow, I had forgotten to breathe, and I pulled away quickly to gulp down as much air as I could. When I was stabilized, I giggled nervously. "Y-you kiss by the book, Ichabod," I murmured, eyes finding his.

He looked startled, but then that familiar smile formed on his silky lips. "A-as do you, E-Elizabeth. A-as do you."

"O-oh, Ichabod," I crooned, but when I leaned in for another kiss, an impatient snort sounded.

Suddenly, Ichabod bounced up from his seat. "I-I'm t-terribly sorry," he began as he walked briskly toward Gunpowder. "H-however, I h-have o-other affairs to a-attend to."

"B-but, Ichabod–"

By then, he had mounted his horse. "I-I am truly, d-deeply sorry!" he squeaked. "I-I will make this u-up to you!!"

He dug his heels into Gunpowder's flanks and sped off deeper into the forest. I watched them until they were swallowed up by the trees and sighed just as soft chirping met my ears. My head turned toward the sound, and I smiled sadly when I spotted a Purple Martin through the enclosure the branches made.


	2. Bewitched

Morning kissed the sky above Sleepy Hollow, making it blush a delicate pink. The clouds that had brought snow the previous night seemed to have melted away, and though the flakes gripped the ground below with such determination, they too were waning. It was when the figures speckled below suddenly became visible that I panicked and scurried out of my small home, petticoats gathered rather untidily in my hands.

Then, I felt their eyes flutter upon me, and my cheeks warmed. To them, I was nothing but a shrew, an aimless woman with age gradually growing against her. It was as if I was a rat in a cage, and they took pleasure in watching me cringe at my own heavy heart. Sighing, I closed the door behind me tightly and stepped out into the world that disapproved of me, a world I could not live without.

Through the chatter of those around me, the soft crunch of hooves against the snow caught my attention, and I foolishly twirled about to see nothing but the mail deliverer. "Good morning," I whispered, regardless of the fact that I knew he would not hear me.

Making my way to the heart of the settlement, his face remained the focus of my mind's gaze. The way his light skin contrasted his raven-black hair and his deep eyes made him appear angelic, as if God had sent him down as something to call my very own. I longed to cup his slight cheeks, brush my thumbs across his neck, and touch my lips to his once more as if we were bird watching. At the mere thought, I faltered in my step, but quickly recovered lest anyone witness it.

It was then that the familiar voice in the distance, like the chime of church bells, made my heart flutter. It was not me he was addressing, but anything he said was soft, sweet music to my ears. In unadulterated excitement, I turned toward the sound only to heave a solemn sigh. He was speaking to Katrina Van Tassel, the beautiful daughter of the leader of Sleepy Hollow, a Mister Baltus Van Tassel. Upon further inspection, however, he had a stern expression about him. I sighed, almost relieved that he seemed to be scolding her rather than simply conversing with her.

Suddenly, with a gentle smile, she turned to leave. Just as she was almost out of sight, I carefully approached Constable Ichabod Crane and touched his shoulder, to which he spooked like a horse and jumped. I withdrew my arm with a start as he whipped his head around, an angry frown upon his face, but then our eyes locked, and his look immediately melted to that of a nervous man.

"E-Elizabeth!" he squeaked. "I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't know–"

"N-no, Ichabod, i-it's quite alright. It was my mistake." When I realized I had interrupted his speech, I blushed. "I-I'm sorry. Y-you may continue i-if you desire to do so."

"I-It's alright," was his apprehensive response.

I felt myself smile, but it faded when he looked away and touched the nape of his neck. "W-what troubles you, Ichabod?"

He did not redirect his gaze. "O-oh, n-nothing, n-nothing at all."

Without realizing it, I reached for his other arm. "Please," I almost whispered, "you can confide in me."

At first it trembled, but it soon relaxed under my caress. Judging by his face, however, I could tell he was not convinced. A delicate sigh escaped me. There had to be something I could do.

It was then that I felt a soft itch on my neck and extended my hand to scratch it when my nail snagged against the dark lace of my ribbon. A half-smile curled on my lips. It was an old thing, that black ribbon, and yet I cared for it so. It was at least one thing I could call my very own. Something, however, compelled me to reach behind me and untie it, and when I presented it to the wonderful man before me, I noticed how incredibly tattered it was. For a moment, I reconsidered, but it was too late, as he had already spotted it.

"E-Elizabeth? W-what is that?"

I paused, swallowing any doubts. "I-it's my ribbon," I responded carefully. "I-it's my lucky charm of sorts." When the silence that followed was too much to bear, I added, in a rushed, nervous tone, "I-I want you to have it."

Something in Ichabod's eyes brightened up like the sun. "A-are you sure?" he asked.

Nodding, I gripped his wrist gently, placed the ribbon in his open palm, and curled his fingers closed tightly. "I believe you need it now more than ever."

A faint blush accented his cheeks. "O-oh, Elizabeth," he breathed, a tender smile appearing on his face. "I-I don't know how to thank you."

"You don't have to, Ichabod. Your accepting it is enough."

Whether it was his intent or not, he leaned in slightly. "A-are you sure, Elizabeth? B-because I would do anything to m-make this up to you."

Suddenly, my being melted. "A-anything?"

He nodded. "T-that I swear to you."

"Then kiss me."

An anxious yelp escaped him, and his hands began to tremble. When I realized what I had said, my face warmed, and my eyes turned toward the snow. "O-of course, s-should you be uncomfortable with that–"

I gasped as I felt his arms slowly wrap around me. "I-it's alright, Elizabeth," he crooned, his voice gentle in my ear. "I-I will do as you wish."

"I-Ichabod—"

Being silenced never felt so wonderful. His quivering lips met my own, but they soon relaxed as he pressed his body closer to me. I returned the kiss lovingly, warmth fluttering in my breast, as my arms draped themselves around his neck, my fingers flowing through his inky hair. A fire crackled between us with heat so intense that I couldn't help but release a low purr.

Before I knew it, he had gradually pulled away, and I was left astonished. A satisfied smile was on his face, though his eyes were twinkling nervously. "W-was that alright?" he asked.

"I-it was perfect," I murmured in response, sliding my fingertips down his chest. Sensing him tremble, I giggled.

"W-why, E-Elizabeth, I-I feel as if you've bewitched me."

Face deeply flushed, I immediately met his eyes, his rich, dark eyes, with my own. My fingers danced up to his hot cheek and brushed against it as I whispered his name. I could not help but attempt to steal another chance at intertwining our lips, but that was when he hastily pulled away.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered as he placed his hand into his pocket. "I-I have some b-business to take care of now. I-I hope you see you s-soon!"  
It was the second time he had to run off and leave me dumbfounded. Sighing half-dreamily, half-irritably, I turned and carried on with the rest of my day. It was not until I returned to my home several hours later that I realized I had never found out what it was that was troubling him.


	3. Winter's Bittersweet Requiem

Serenity, a dream that once seemed so distant it was foolish to even muse over it, had become a pleasant, picturesque reality. The sun shined brighter, the snow thinned, and no one jolted at the sound of hooves beating against the ground. Children bolted into the streets, joyfully screaming their little lungs weary. Trails of the trials that had plagued us were buried so far into the earth, it was silently stated that none of us were to excavate their memories for as long as we lived. There was nothing to fear, and there never would be so long as Sleepy Hollow stood.

I should have been in the highest of spirits when Constable Ichabod Crane, mounted upon his faithful steed, announced he had banished the evil that once loomed over us, and though I was content, something was tethering my soul down into the depths of my heart. A strange emptiness settled in my stomach, making me hungry, but I did not realize what it was until he turned my way. Despite being in the back of the sea of people, I saw it, a subdued look on his face that only deepened when he turned my way. Soon, he would return to his home in New York. Soon, I would be without him. Soon, just as I had built it up, my life would crash down upon me, injuring my very core.

I blinked, and the crowd had dissipated save for a few stragglers. Perhaps losing oneself for too long did that sort of thing to a person. I blinked again, and Gunpowder was pacing toward me, his rider appearing especially apprehensive. For a moment, I considered returning home, but I found my legs too weak to be able to move them.

The horse halted beside me, and off hopped the handsome constable. When he recovered from his dismount, his eyes found and held mine fast. "E-Elizabeth," he breathed.

A long silence hovered between us. I was too delighted, too miserable to even whisper his name in return. Instead, I reached up with a trembling hand and brushed my knuckles along his cheek, to which he swallowed. "I-It has been far too long. A-alas, I–"

"I know." I paused, contemplating my own strength, and then said, "I-I know you have to leave. You have my everlasting gratitude for saving this place."

"Y-you're most certainly welcome, d-dear Elizabeth."

Suddenly, I found myself diving into his arms, head resting on his shoulder, tears sliding down my face. At first he stiffened, rigid like a board, but when I felt him embrace me, the sobs I was desperately trying to choke back escaped. I melted like snow as I shivered underneath his warmth, yet my heart was slowly freezing over, the ice hardening around it, creating a wall so thick nothing would ever be able to salvage the dying muscle.

"I-Ichabod." His name passed through my lips in a delicate whisper and shattered before my weary eyes.

His hand slid up my back and cupped the nape of my neck. "E-everything w-will be alright, Elizabeth," he crooned, his finger and thumb rubbing against me in small circles. "I-I–"

"N-no, I-Ichabod," came my hushed voice. "I-it won't be. H-how can everything be alright w-when my everything is l-leaving me?"

With an unexpected burst of strength, he tightened his embrace. The soft glow I once felt radiating from within him was replaced with an indescribable fire. "I will return for you."

I gasped, lifting my head to look into his dark eyes. "W-what?"

"I will return for you." He did not stutter, nor did he squeak; his voice was smooth like perfection.

A moment barely slipped passed us before I lunged for his lips, lacing them with mine. He peeped as he stumbled back, but I caught him and held him tightly should he have started to disappear. Magic crackled in the air when he returned my kiss as deeply as I had pounced upon him, and for those short, sweet moments, I forgot where I ended and he began.

A faint voice echoed through my ears, and suddenly, we were ripped apart. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, hands quivering as he seized Gunpowder's reins. "I-I have to go now."

"I-Ichabod–"

It sounded again, and I recognized it instantly. "What does Miss Van Tassel want with you?" I couldn't help but let jealousy slip into my tone.

He froze just as he was about to mount his horse, and his head craned toward me. "S-she is a-accompanying me back to N-New York."

Without a second thought, I reached back and snapped my wrist forth, my palm colliding with his cheek. A yelp escaped him, and his face wrinkled up as he lifted his hand to caress where I had slapped him. Rage blinded me from just how helpless he looked, and when I spoke, I sounded like a dog.

"How dare you? Do you even care for me at all? Do you want to know how deep your words have wounded me?" He began to whimper, but I growled, and the noise dissipated. "I love you, Constable Ichabod Crane!" Hot tears rolled down my cheeks once more as I choked on those six words again and again, and the more I said them, the harder it became to breathe. I saw his hand moving toward me, but I smacked it away.

"Don't you dare touch me! Don't you dare look at me! Don't you dare think of me! Don't even come back for me! Go on, run to your young maiden and deflower her, violate her until she bleeds!!" My body heaved with each gulp of air I groped desperately for. The pale face of the constable blurred until he was a ghost. When he spoke, it sounded like he, too, was weeping.

"E-Elizabeth, p-please, l-listen t-to–"

"Cease your stammering, you little whelp! Bullfrogs have more eloquence than you do! If you have something to say, I want you to say it, here and now!!"

The only sound I heard was a crow cawing in the distance. I swallowed before speaking once more, my voice low and shaky, my finger extended toward his hazy head.

"Listen to me, Constable. I never, under any circumstances, want to see your pathetic face in Sleepy Hollow so long as I live. Return, and the image of my hand will be the burned into your skull. Now go, satisfy your twisted desires with that wretched little thing." When he remained in place, my voice rose to a bark. "Are you deaf? I said go!!"

His body jerked, and he flew atop his horse, clucking at him to go. At first, Gunpowder refused to move, but after a firm kick to his sides, he wearily began to disappear.

The last words I heard slip passed his lips, the lips I longed to belong to, were "I-I l-love you too, Elizabeth."


End file.
